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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513991">Confusing Attraction</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller'>jaimistoryteller</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Torture, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Feral Letho z Gulety, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:34:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24513991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Letho didn't know what to expect of the man who bought him as a slave and got him out of a torturous situation, whatever it was, he'd count on it <i>not</i> being good. Jaskier doesn't expect the rescue mission to go smoothly, he's in enemy territory fetching a witcher, what part of that could be simple? Neither expect how things develop in the days and weeks following.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Letho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>421</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Witcher Rarepair Discord Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Painful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello All<br/>So first foray into the Witcher Verse, I applied my two canon rules, and blended the different bits of canon I liked together, ignoring the rest. I've got the first five chapters done, will be posting at least weekly, but will probably post more depending on response and how fast I type since I plan to post a chapter when I finish a chapter. I adore validation and comments, as they give me extra umph to write. Thank you all for reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>Letho's POV </p><p>Pain sears through every nerve. Muscles tightening past the point of tearing. Bones splintering beneath tendons stretched too far. Blood oozes from countless cuts and nicks, and spots where his skin ripped open after being pulled too tight. He’s cold in a way he’s not used to being, after being saturated repeatedly with freezing water and denied all rest.</p><p>They've left his head alone so far, much to his initial confusion. That confusion didn’t last long, they want him aware of every single pain inflicted on him. </p><p>Currently all he can do is breath, try to meditate and ignore the way his body isn’t healing right. How the shackles holding him in place have been imbued with magic to run electricity through him, disrupting his healing. Add that to the fact he’s intentionally stretched beyond what is safe, and he expects there will be long term damage.</p><p>The only reason this isn’t as bad as going through the Trials is the lack of bodily fluids coming out uncontrollably. He already lived through that once, he does not wish to live through it a second time. </p><p>The next time he’s aware, there is a young man standing there with the warden and a host of guards looking bored senseless by the display.</p><p>“Is all this really necessary?” the drawl is rather annoyed. </p><p>He tries to pick up on the scents and emotions in the room, but only manages to smell his own blood, horses, and the fear pouring off the guards closest to him. </p><p>“Viscount de Lettenhove-” the warden’s voice irritates him, and he desires nothing more then to rip the man’s throat out. </p><p>“Considering the shape he’s in, it’ll take months to get him healthy enough to work,” the young man, Viscount de Lettenhove, snaps. “Particularly as I was informed his healing has been slowed at this time?”</p><p>The warden nods, frowning but not speaking.</p><p>He's pretty sure he hates this new human. He doesn't know what the plan for him is, he's certain whatever it is, he's not going to like it. </p><p>"What are you waiting for? An invite?" The viscount demands, arching a brow at the warden. </p><p>Motioning to him, the warden watches the noble as one of the guards steps forward and releases him from the chains. The band's on his wrists, ankles, and throat are left however. </p><p>Once the bindings no longer hold him in place, he goes down like a sinking rock. He'd hiss angrily if not for the pain stealing his breath. </p><p>"He's all yours," the warden's tone is nasty as the guards step back. </p><p>Rolling his eyes, the noble motions towards the door where two large men are standing, "Take him to the wagon."</p><p>"My lord," they chorus, stepping up to grab him under the arms and by the legs to lift him from the ground and carry him away. </p><p>The last thing he hears is the viscount demanding his belongings before he black out from the pain of it all. </p><p>The next time he's aware, they are inside the rooms of an inn if he's not mistaken. Surprisingly, he's laying on the bed, his many wounds carefully bandaged. </p><p>Must have been one of the two servants, he thinks, testing his ability to move slowly, trying not to give away the fact he's awake. That doesn't last long as he hisses as he tries moving his toes only to have every nerve light on fire.</p><p>"Careful," the viscount murmurs, suddenly appearing at his side, running a cool cloth across his face, careful not to cover his nose or mouth. </p><p>He blinks, vision blurry as he takes the man in. Soft brown hair is carefully styled, blue eyes watch him, studying him as the cloth continues to run over his skin. There's laugh lines and the hints of an easy smile. The fancy clothing have been stripped down to nothing but a chemise and trousers, revealing a surprisingly decent body beneath the thin layers. There are calluses on the slender hands, but not ones from holding a weapon. </p><p>"Sleep," the viscount suggests, stroking his jaw softly, "I'll wake you for dinner. We won't be traveling until tomorrow."</p><p>As much as he hates it, he does just that, eyes closing against his will. </p><p>"Letho?" A rough voice barely above a whisper draws him to the waking world. "Ah, there you are lad."</p><p>He blinks, eyes adjusting to the low light, and taking in the older human who is closer than he appreciates.  </p><p>"Master Julian will be back shortly, lad, he had a bit of a situation to attend. However," there's amusement in the tone, "I doubt it will take long. He's protective of those he claims. If they're injured, he rarely strays from their side long." </p><p>He's not a <em>thing </em>to be claimed. The mere idea of being owned infuriates him. If not for the fact his limbs aren't working right, he'd destroy the noble and his people before going after that bitch. Sadly, not an option. He's a Viper though, he can bide his time. He'll deal with <em>all</em> of them. </p><p>There's soft, barely there steps approaching the room, a soft knock, and the door swings open to reveal the viscount with a tray. "I've brought the food with me, go join the others and relax, Adolph, I'll call if we need anything."</p><p>Snorting, the human rises from where he was near the bed, and shakes his head. "Sure you will, Master Julian, and I'm a cat. I'll check on you before I lay down for the night."</p><p>He's confused by the soft smile from the noble as the man leaves. There's something at play he doesn't recognize and it bothers him. It takes him a moment to realize neither man smells afraid of him, at all. Even injured he's still a threat, he doesn't understand that. </p><p>"I've got ale and soup for you," the viscount tells him, setting it on a small table next to the bed. "I know it will hurt, but it'll help with healing, getting food in your system."</p><p>Slowly, every move advertised long before it's completed, the noble slides on the bed, then carefully moves him to an almost sitting position. Each inch sends sparks of pain through him despite how gentle the human is trying to be. That he doesn't understand either. Why be so careful?</p><p>Once situated, the viscount grabs the mug first, "Here, I don't know how long it's been since you received fluids to replace the slowly seeping blood."</p><p>Hissing softly, he accepts the drink, not seeing any options as he's in so much damned pain he can't function. That's before counting the damage to his tensions and nerves. What happens if he doesn't heal enough to escape? What happens if this human decides his new <em>toy</em> is too badly broken? He's tried repeatedly to move and hasn't been able to because of the pain.</p><p>He's almost finished the ale when his body suddenly feels different. His blood feels thick, like when he's taken a dose of Kiss. It's almost hidden in the after taste of the ale. How's it even close to possible? No witcher he knows would share their secrets with a human noble. This bastard is too young to have been alive during the purge, so he must be the child of one of those fuckers. </p><p>Is the goal to earn his trust just to destroy him? He'll kill himself first. </p><p>Snarling, he forces his body to move, not that he gets far before slender hands hold him steady. A soft voice whispering reassurances that he barely hears over the pounding of his heart. </p><p>As much as he hates it, his body gives in to the pain and what the noble wants. Panting, he collapses against the body supporting him. Less than a breath later he blacks out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In Between Sleep and Waking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Letho wakes up, mostly, and listens to he people around him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You all are awesome! Just so you know. All the kudos and comments are balms to my stressed out self.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Letho's POV </p><p>The room is darker when he wakes again. Only the lightest shadows play along the walls and ceiling from moonlight coming between barely closed curtains. Pain still radiates through his body yet it is lesser. It’s a steady ache that no longer pulses, driving his normally slow heart beat into nearly double time. He's sprawled on his back once more beneath soft blankets with the lightest clothing he can recall ever wearing. </p><p>With footsteps approaching, he closes his eyes. He’ll act like he still sleeps, or is drowsing at least. That will give him a chance to gather information on the people who have him, why, and what their plans are.  </p><p>"Whatever you used worked better than my magic," a soft voice brushes across his senses. "Not only has the bleeding stopped, but I was also able to line all the tendons back up so they may start stitching themselves together."</p><p>"Thank you Iwa," the viscount replies from close by, the bed dipping a bit, cool cloth running along his skin.</p><p>"Any ideas on how to restart the healing?" He hears hair shifting against cloth as the soft voice, Iwa probably, speaks. "I don't like that he's healing slower than starving human peasants."</p><p>There's a low growl, a wash of anger in the air, but the steady cloth continues to cool his skin. "You and I both, Iwa. I do, but not here, not outside pack territory."</p><p>"Safety first," she murmurs in agreement, moving according to what he can determine. "Make sure you rest as well, traveling will be hard for the next few weeks, as you know."</p><p>The door opens but doesn't close, instead heavy steps echo through the room, hurting his sensitive ears. Normally he’d be able to control it a bit better, unfortunately the pain is making that tricky right now. All his senses are in overdrive currently. </p><p>"Iwa and Adolph are concerned, Master Julian." The voice is deep, sets off the instincts that say he needs to get up and fight, but he keeps himself still.</p><p>Gather info, he reminds himself, to strike better. As long as they think he's sleeping they should keep talking openly.</p><p>"Oh really, cousin?" The coldness used with the warden is back in the viscount's tone, the cloth removed from his skin. There's a bitter tang of anger in the air. </p><p>"It's not one—" the words are cut off with the sound of a fist connecting with flesh and a body stumbling, crashing against the wall.</p><p>The anger gets thicker. The viscount's scent is bitter like lemon trees not properly cared for. The other man is more like burnt bread and coated in resentment of pine. Hints of blood not his own enter the mix.</p><p>"I'd suggest you remember your place, <em>cousin.</em>" There's a viciousness to that snarl.  </p><p>His head starts pounding as multiple sets of footsteps rush to the room. Too many scents at once overwhelm him. The emotions clogging the room are more than he can process. Noises make no sense through the rushing of blood in his ears. He's sure if he tried opening his eyes, they'd burn. When combined with the pain he's already in, he blacks out again. </p><p>The next time he awakes, he barely opens his eyes, reveals the pale pinks and orange of sunlight taking the place of the moonlight. He’s startled by a slender body pressed close. One hand absently stroking over his skin soothingly, almost petting him. </p><p>"Adolph is dealing with our cousin," Iwa comments, sighing, an unfamiliar hand lightly touching his ankle beneath the blankets. </p><p>When did he start thinking of the viscount as familiar? The man bought him as a <em>slave</em>. There's nothing good about that. No reason to like him at all. Even if at this point the human hasn’t acted like any slave owner he’s ever seen or met, there must be a reason. He can’t let his guard down. </p><p>"I don't like how slow his muscles are knitting themselves together." The healer sounds surprisingly sincere, concerned as if he is important.</p><p>There's a flash of lemony anger in the scent surrounding him, "Nor do I."</p><p>The warmth starts in the ankle she’s touching. It’s slow, barely there at first, spreading outwards towards his foot and leg, all encompassing yet not leaving the joint completely. Seconds pass as it gets warmer and warmer, until it’s burning hot. The only thing that keeps him from hissing is biting the inside of his cheek. </p><p>In another breath the heat is completely gone, only for the process to be repeated in his other ankle. All of the tension and pain that was originally in them has faded away to nothing, gone in that heat, to the point his ankles feel better than he can remember. </p><p>"Be careful with this one," she murmurs, hand lifting from beneath the blanket and away from his skin. "There's a shadow in him. I don't want to see you hurt."</p><p>"Oh Iwa, every witcher I've met has a shadow. Their packs destroyed or broken." There is the lightest hint of sadness in the scent that accompanies those words. </p><p>What's that supposed to mean? He's a Viper, not a Wolf, why would he belong to a pack? How many witchers has this noble met? In his experience, nobles make the aldermen deal with witchers. </p><p>"That explains much, pack bonds are the deepest," her murmur is distracted, as if considering something. "Your companion, the one not here, the same?"</p><p>That makes no sense, he wants to say, but keeps quiet as the hand continues the barely there stroke along his temple. Perhaps he will understand if he keeps listening. There's something going on here that he needs to figure out. Particularly as the information might come in handy for his escaping. He will be escaping. Somehow. </p><p>"Some, not much, not as broken." There's a pause, the hand stopping at the edge of his jaw near his pulse point. "The bonds are duller, maybe, or never as formed." Sighing, the stroking resumes, "I haven't been able to tell."</p><p>The healer, as he's certain that's what Iwa is, makes a distressed noise.</p><p>"Breakfast is ready," a new voice, one from the previous night, announces cheerfully. </p><p>"Go Iwa, I'll be down in a bit." The viscount suggests, "There's time before the others are ready."</p><p>Her footsteps are light as she leaves, opening and closing the door without speaking.  </p><p>"A bunch of worrying pups," the man mutters, still stroking along his jaw, up behind his ear, and along his skull. "They wonder why I find them exhausting." The hand slows to a stop after a few more gentle strokes. "Hopefully you've got at least some rest despite the pain. I'd wager you've been more awake then you're letting on. If not, I'll wake you when I get back with breakfast, while they get the wagon ready. Last night for a while in an inn."</p><p>There's one last stroke along his jaw, cupping it ever so tenderly before the viscount stands and leaves. </p><p>He hadn't reacted to any of it, didn't want to confirm he's awake. At least some, though how awake he's not sure since he's certain he's missing details. They talk like a pack of shifters, but not one of them had smelled even remotely like anything the shifters he's dealt with in the past have. Of course, in those cases he was hunting them and killing them.</p><p>If they're shifters of some variety, did the viscount decide to buy him to extract revenge or protection? It makes no sense.  Shifters avoid witchers. At least that's what a smart one does, and this group seems relatively smart. Do they have magical healers? </p><p>He's still musing about it as he drifts into sleep again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Early Morning Reflections</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Breakfast doesn't go as Jaskier expects</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier's POV </p><p>Right now he'd love to be anywhere but in this fucking hell of a country. There's plenty of desire to kill those responsible for the damage done to the witcher sleeping upstairs. He's seen Geralt in that bad of shape and healing at amazingly fast speeds. Sure, it's not instant, but it is faster than what he is seeing in Letho who is barely healing at speeds of a regular human right now, let alone one who's supposed to heal quickly.</p><p>If they stay here, in this country too long, he'd give into that need. It’s probably bad enough he made it a point to visit a certain sorceress and put a bit of dimeritium in her favorite wine. Along with on her favorite goblet, and a bit more in her perfume. That wasn't the easiest, but well worth it in his book. The bitch shouldn't have hurt one of his packmates, even if that packmate doesn't even know she is part of his pack. Although, he would have made it so much worse if he had known she was also the one making it impossible for the witcher he was fetching to heal.</p><p><em>Letho</em>. </p><p>What a complicated mess. Not even forty-eight hours into having the witcher with him, and his instincts are already swearing that the witcher is <em>pack</em>. How's he going to feel after at least two week's travel? Particularly since he's going to be the one caring for the Viper generally. He’s not risking any of the others with a witcher’s wrath. </p><p>The only reason Iwa will be helping is the fact she’s a trained healer and has magic. He doesn't even know how much her magic will be able to help. After all, it's tuned to pack, and while his instincts say the witcher <em>is </em>pack, the chances are more than likely no one else's do. </p><p>"You over thinkin'." The youngest of their group settles in the seat across from him with a plate of food. "He's yours. We'll protect him."</p><p>He smiles at Alek, replying, "I know. We do that."</p><p>"Aye, that we do." Adolph joins them, downing half his tankard of ale. "He's not traditionally one of ours but that matters little. You wouldn't have gone for him if he wasn't at least a potential." There is a wealth of meaning behind the last word.</p><p>Is the witcher more than just a packmate? He frowns at his breakfast, turning the idea over slowly. </p><p>He'd thought Geralt could be a potential mate, until they actually discussed it one night while drowsing after a pleasant evening sharing each other’s bodies. While saddening that the man he spent so many years with didn't consider him mate worthy, it was nice to actually discuss it. They'd talked about it further the next day, surprising but welcome, as he was sure that would have been the end of the conversation. </p><p>The White Wolf didn’t want to be tied that closely to anyone. Not even if they were a person considered a friend. A word that warmed him all the way through after years of being denied. Apparently realizing he's actually hard to kill was the key. It was only a while later he learned that part of the denial was due to the false bond created with Yenna due to the djinn. </p><p>Would he like the Viper upstairs to be something more? He doesn't know. Not yet anyways. By the time they reach the pack territory, he'll hopefully have an answer. That or he'll be hopelessly in love. Sometimes he's sure he loves too easily, but he'd rather love easily than not enough. </p><p>Finishing his plate, he's getting ready to get up and make a bowl of something easy to process for Letho when Iwa sets a bowl of porridge before him. </p><p>"For our patient," she murmurs, eyes crinkling in mirth and lips tilted upwards crookedly. </p><p>"Thank you," he replies, standing and taking the bowl. "Is there honey or spices?" Before anyone can answer, he considers the fact witchers have better senses and how in his injured state Letho's might be in overdrive. "Wait, never mind, bad idea for now."</p><p>He doesn’t know much about Letho, not like he does Geralt. What he does know comes from the White Wolf and is biased since his friend admits to a rivalry between Wolves and Vipers. </p><p>The scars tell plenty of stories. After the last few years traveling with Geralt, he can even recognize a few of the marks by monster type, even if he wouldn’t say he’s completely sure. Still, the fact that they didn’t heal cleanly tells him plenty too. The worst in his view are the scars made by human blades. </p><p>When Iwa was cleaning the many cuts, she had to remind him that going back to destroy those assholes wasn’t going to help. Most weren’t even dangerous, more painful buggers that wouldn’t have scared normally. However, a lot of them were also infected due to the slowing of Letho’s healing and use of dirty blades. That the witcher’s skin was literally torn open form a combination of being pulled too far, and dehydration added to his rage. </p><p>Since they left the prison and where he bought the witcher, there’ve been a few glances where he can practically feel the death threats, even if no words are spoken. Hell, he had to put the viper medallion back on while Letho was out cold since someone had taken it off him and he wasn’t risking the witcher ire putting it back. Nope, chances are that would have made things worse. Better just to return it while his Viper was sleeping. </p><p>Honestly, he’s certain he’d feel the same if someone just showed up and bought him as a slave following a brutal torture. He hopes to explain the situation before violence erupts but he refuses to do so until they are somewhere safe. That doesn’t include where they’re currently at. </p><p>“Letho,” he murmurs as he opens the door to the room using the key, “I’ve got breakfast for you.” </p><p>Narrow yellow eyes meet his as he walks over to the bed, studying him intently. </p><p>He sets the food on the nightstand before settling on the bed to help the witcher move up a bit to make it easier to eat. “I’d suggest relaxing but I know that’s not happening,” he murmurs as his hands slid under massive shoulders. Not many make him feel small, but damned if Letho isn’t simply by being. </p><p>It takes longer than he likes to change their positioning because he has to be careful of where tendons are still damaged and he doesn’t want to put too much pressure on healing cuts. </p><p>Through it all not a word is spoken to him. Actually, he doesn’t know if the Viper even can speak right now. There’s been a bit of hissing in pain, but that’s it, no other noises. </p><p>“Right, so, I’m sure you’d prefer something not porridge, but alas, it is quick and simple, and will help with the healing.” He keeps his voice low in case the witcher’s hearing is currently hypersensitive. “There’s nothing in it drug wise. I don’t have another Kiss, in case you were wondering. I should have brought Swallow with me too, but wasn’t thinking about it.” </p><p>A soft hiss of rage rumbles from the large man’s chest.</p><p>He shifts how he’s sitting a bit more, making sure that Letho’s steady against the wall behind the bed and the pillows before doing so. Meeting furious yellow eyes again, he works to keep calm as he speaks too softly for anyone without enhanced senses to pick up on. “I understand you’re furious, probably even murderous. As soon as we are away from this hellhole and somewhere safe, I’ll explain why I know of and have access to witcher potions. You have my word on the pack bond and by my honor as a viscount.”</p><p>Seconds turn to minutes as he waits for his words to sink in. </p><p>Finally the witcher looks away, eyes practically closing. </p><p>Smiling, he reaches for the food and frowning when he realizes it’s gone cold. That won’t do at all. It takes a moment for him to heat it up, letting part of his natural heat flare into his human form. Once it’s closer to what it should be, he starts feeding it to the witcher slowly. </p><p>This is going to be an interesting and long trip. Definitely a good thing he’ll be the caregiver. He’s got practice dealing with a stubborn witcher. Hopefully Letho isn’t as bad as Geralt, but he’ll see. It’s going to be slow going until Iwa says it’s safe to speed up without risking the injuries being jarred too much. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you wonderful peeps for the responses so far! It's been great! I wanna see about typing an update for one of my other WIPs, then will be working on chapter 9 of this, so I can get chapter 4 posted. I hope you all keep enjoying! All the thoughts left and kudos are awesome.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Sleepy Frustration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Time to get on the road</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><b><i>Content Warning:</i></b> thoughts of rape when Letho wakes in the wagon the first time, skip two paragraphs for it to be over.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Letho’s POV </p><p>The offer surprises him. Why would the viscount admit to how he got the knowledge kept among witchers only? Why is the human doing any of this? It doesn't make sense. </p><p>Then there is the oath, sworn on the pack bond and honor as a viscount. It smelled completely truthful. Refreshingly so compared to what most smell like near him. There's still no fear despite the fact the human recognizes he's a threat. Why swear on a pack bond? He hasn't been able to determine anything non-human about the man. Hasn't got a good enough sniff of any of the others to determine with them. </p><p>He'll keep trying to figure the references to pack out. He's unfortunately got time. Too much time, he wants to scream as he tries moving his legs and finds most the nerves and muscles will not respond to him. He's going to kill the bitch that put the cuffs on him just as soon as he manages to get free. </p><p>All the careful touches confuse him. He doesn't try to consider when the last time he had someone willingly touch him like this. Softly, affectionately even. It's frustrating. Infuriating. Why? He could ask, but right now he's refusing to speak. He doesn't want to know what this bastard would do if given another resource on Witchers. All of the gentleness is probably a ploy, a trap. What for, he doesn't know, but he definitely doesn't trust it. </p><p>He's still hungry after the first bowl of porridge but doesn't actually expect to be given more. That's not how a slave is treated after all, so he's startled when the viscount meets his gaze again, blue eyes soft. </p><p>"Would you like a second bowl? It's not much but it's plentiful." The question is soft, like everything else he's had directed at him. </p><p>Frowning, he nods once, eyes nearly closing. </p><p>"Right, ah, I'll go get that. After we need to be on the road." The human murmurs, hand running lightly along his face again. It seems to be an absent minded habit. </p><p>What in the fuck is going? The second bowl of porridge is just as well made as the first. This isn't the poorly boiled gruel without flavor, but well made. He's offered fresh water as well, clean and clear, refreshing in a way he didn't realize he needed.</p><p>After he's done with breakfast, his body wishes to fall back into oblivion. This is helped along by the only woman in the group pressing her hand to his chest above his heart as the rest of the group enters the room. </p><p>"It's going to be okay," the viscount promises him as his senses fade. "I'll not leave you unprotected."</p><p>The next time he's aware, he's laying in a pile of furs and blankets in the back of a wagon. He still has the barely there fabric covering his skin, along with a light travel blanket over him. It all smells rather heavily of the viscount. As if these are the human's bedding.</p><p>He doesn't care if it hurts him further, he'll fight with everything in him to avoid being taken. He's already defenseless and in so much pain it might kill him to fight, but that won't stop him. It's  happened in the past and isn't something he's willing to allow again. </p><p>Could that be why the human has been kind? Trying to catch him off guard to use like a toy?</p><p>He hisses, low in his throat, not nearly loud enough for humans to hear. Yet it's less than a breath later the viscount is beside him in the wagon, having hopped off a moving horse to join him. </p><p>"I'm sorry the ride’s not smoother," the human tells him, frowning as he glances about. "I could have Iwa keep you asleep so you don't have to feel the pain while traveling?"</p><p>"Fuck no!" He snarls, voice far rougher than he's used to. He tries to shove himself into a sitting position but his arms refuse to work at all. Sending wave after wave of pain sparking along his nerves and reminding him how helpless he actually is. </p><p>He expects to be struck, punished for daring to deny what his new <em>master</em> wants. As much as he hates to admit it, he's fucking helpless. The human can do whatever he wants and there's nothing that can be done to stop it. Perhaps he could fight if his adrenaline rushes enough, but he's not counting on it despite the will to.</p><p>"Alright, I didn't think you'd like to go that route but still thought to offer." The words are gentle, like the hand that barely touches his shoulder. A light stroke designed to sooth, though he doesn’t understand why. </p><p>None of this makes sense. This human doesn't act human. Not how he's used to. Not how he's seen in the years of life on the Path. </p><p>Carefully settling beside him, the viscount uses a cool cloth to run along his forehead and temples. It's rather soothing, he hadn't noticed how warm he was getting, that he's sweating, until the cloth wipes it away. </p><p>He's startled when he wakes a second time to near darkness, able to hear running water nearby. Their small party is discussing how long it will take to get home at their current speed of travel. There's some debate going on, with the voice he's come to recognize as 'cousin' whining it will take more than a month, while the viscount disagrees and says fortnight. </p><p>"You've been spoiled, cousin, if you think we can't make this trip in fourteen days." </p><p>"No one could make it that quickly!" The belligerent man declares as if he knows he's right. "You're full of shit Master Julian."</p><p>A deep laugh echoes through the air, "Master Julian is many things but wrong about how long it takes to travel is not one. Did you forget he spends most his time on the road?" He's moderately sure that's Adolph speaking. </p><p>There's more bickering, but he ignores it. What sort of noble spends most of his time on the road? Where are they going that it will take two weeks to get there? From his current laying down in a wagon angle he can't tell where they are. He knows they're heading north by the sky, but not exactly where, there's too much sky that looks alike from this angle. </p><p>He's staring at the sky getting a general idea of their location, at least a band of a few hundred miles they have to be within. Still doesn't help over all.</p><p>"I have dinner for you," the viscount murmurs as the slender human climbs up beside him. </p><p>The plate carried is set aside as he's helped into a sitting position, to make eating a bit easier. This gives him a chance to glance around but it still doesn't help any since all he sees is farmland and shadows. So they're still in the south somewhere. </p><p>The food this time is a bit more solid then what they had this morning, fresh venison and steamed vegetables. It feels right, the way each bite is carefully given to him, making sure he's ready before providing the next. It feels wrong, as this man is supposed to be his master, and he's nothing but a toy or play thing. </p><p>He's barely finished eating when he finds himself swaying tiredly in place, having a bitch of a time keeping his eyes open. </p><p>"Rest," the viscount suggests, the hints of a smile curling at the corners of his lips. </p><p>This is so damned annoying. He hates how slow he's healing and all the sleep. He hisses in frustration as he's helped back into a lying position and allowed to drift off. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank each of you for your wonderful reviews and the kudos! I appreciate all of them!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. River's Edge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier isn't happy with something he finds near the river.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier's POV </p><p>After Letho drifts off to sleep, fighting it every step of the way, he takes the dishes to be cleaned in the water someone got from the river not too far from the road. It’s not the sort that rushes and ripples, it’s the quiet sort, more dangerous due to the fact it looks so calm, showing none of its strength hidden in the depths. </p><p>As he sets the completed wash aside on the piece of leather laid out for drying, something prickles at the back of his senses. </p><p>“Iwa, stay with the wagon.” He orders, pitching his voice low so it’ll carry to her but not further. It’d take better than human hearing to pick up on it. </p><p>Dark brown, nearly black eyes meet his as she rises, pushing her crinkle curls away from her face as she uses hand signs to give orders to the others. Directing them to take up a defensive ring while she joins their resting witcher. </p><p>He shifts on the move, dimming his inner fire even as he uses his canine senses to track what is setting off his instincts. </p><p>Less than an hour away he finds more wagons, caged wagons, used by slavers and full of <em>children. </em>He returns to human form, except his eyes and ears, in an instant. The next several minutes are spent scouting the entire area, working in a spiral outwards before working in a second spiral back in. </p><p>Technically he’s already saved the one person he’s after. That’s not stopped him before when the going gets tricky. The question is how to pull this off? </p><p>Several more minutes are spent going over everything he can find before heading back to the wagon in his other form. He’s almost back when he catches a familiar and nasty scent. Nose twitching, he bypasses his packmates, following it until he reaches a small pond that seems to have formed where a mill used to be. </p><p>One ball of fire tossed at the water later, and he confirms the fact there is a nest of drowners. </p><p>That just made his situation with the slavers so much easier to deal with. If he was in human form, he’d be smirking as he plans out their deaths and what to do with the kids. </p><p>Of course, he’s moderately sure he’s got that pendent from Guxart in his travel bag. He rarely goes anywhere without it. That way, if he needs to hire some assistance that won’t ask a lot of questions, like say to transport a bunch of ex-slave children across several countries in a relatively short amount of time, he can have the Cats do it. </p><p>He’s just about to the wagon when he returns to complete human form, shivering a bit as his natural heat vanishes into his skin. </p><p>“There a problem, lad?” Adolph asks, having taken the point closest to the river to guard. </p><p>“Child slavers,” he bites back a snarl. </p><p>“Do you need your bag?” Iwa asks, watching his rapid approach with narrow eyes. He’s moderately sure in his other form he’d smell her rage. She’s been the primary one to care for the children he’s sent to the pack territory in the past. Along with her two siblings. </p><p>Nodding, he stops and glances at Letho, watching the steady rise and fall of the witcher’s chest in the low light. Hopefully the Viper will stay unconscious while he deals with this. He doesn’t feel like explaining what he is, or who he is, exactly, while they are still in a not so safe zone. Bad enough he’s about to do something Geralt would probably call him insane for. </p><p>That’s before including his instincts to protect. What exactly he’s protecting the witcher from, he’s not exactly sure. He doesn’t know if Letho is driven to kill monsters like some of the others he’s met or if he only kills them when he is contracted to. Either way, no reason to give the badly injured witcher a reason to try going after the drowners. Then there are the slavers. He has no idea whether they’d be a threat to the healing witcher or not, and he’s not willing to find out. It’s just another reason to rid the world of them. </p><p>“Here,” she offers the smaller of the bags he keeps, the one that would be in his lute case if he had it with him. </p><p>Huffing, he accepts it to quickly dig out the small pendant and puts it on. He’ll use it after he tells the pack what the plan is, and gets their input. It’s possible one of them will come up with something else for them to do, but some reason he doubts it. </p><p>He hands the bag back before she gets out of the wagon. </p><p>They join the other four, who have gathered by the horses at the front of the wagon, though he knows that Adolph and Teo are paying more attention to their surroundings than him at this point. He might not be their alpha, but he is still of a higher rank, and instincts insist on paying attention to the potential threats that drew his attention and him. </p><p>It takes longer than he’d like for them to hash out the plan of action, mostly because Stephen keeps being an annoying pain in the arse that he wants to throw head first into the river. If not for the fact that it’d cause more problems than it would solve, he probably would. </p><p>“I will get a letter written up for Rama, with space so their names may be recorded.” Iwa states as she returns to the wagon. “While doing so, I shall keep an eye on your packmate.” </p><p>He’s quite sure his skin turns a rather lovely shade of red or pink, despite the fact it’s nighttime and he really shouldn’t be blushing over something like that. They all know he cares too easily sometimes. It’s just rare that he wants to accept those he cares for into the pack, particularly his pack, which is relatively small compared to what the primary pack is like. </p><p>“Thank you,” he mumbles.
</p><p>Her dark eyes crinkle in, a smile tugging at her lips, “I’m a pack healer, that means I feel the connections. It’s not fully there, but like the other four not tied to our home, it’s forming.”</p><p>He stops at the foot of the wagon, spending a few moments watching the witcher sleeping there. Why’d they have to come across those slavers? The only good part of this is the fact they can deal with the drowners nest. </p><p>“Make sure his neck and throat are healed please,” he requests, thinking of the way Letho had tried turning his head and froze in pain. How swallowing seemed to hurt. It could just be the stiffness from not moving around alot lately, but he wants to be sure. </p><p>She settles beside the Viper with a nod, hand already reaching to touch the curve of shoulder and neck. It will be taken care of before they return. </p><p>He joins Adolph by the horses, looking out into the darkness with his human eyes despite the fact he can’t see nearly as well with them. “I’ll send a message for Guxart as we go. He’ll reply by time it’s done I’m sure.”</p><p>“We ready?” Alek asks as he joins them, rolling his shoulder with a madcap grin that should be more than a little alarming under the circumstances. It isn't though, he gets the feeling. </p><p>“Yes,” he hums, heading off without another word. </p><p>Iwa will make sure Letho is safe, able to continue healing and resting if anyone is foolish enough to try shit while they aren’t there. Teo and Stephen can take care of any other threats and keep the horses calm. </p><p>Hand wrapping tightly around the pendent, he lets his thumb slide carefully over the sharp edge, cutting it slightly to get a few drops of blood as he focuses on the message he would like the Cat to receive. </p><p>As soon as he’s sure the message has gone through, he removes his hand from the pendent and shifts. </p><p>It’s nice to be able to run beside packmates in his second form. All three of them have their nature hiding, as much as an elemental can hide it. He can still see the traces of electricity that dance over Alek’s fur, the way it moves just a little differently than the air around them. Adolph’s fur is tipped in dark green that blends into his brown. The feathering of the shifter’s leg fur is textured like little blades of grass. </p><p>He can smell their target, the children in need of baths and reeking of fear, long before they come into line of sight. </p><p>As soon as they are within range, he pulls every bit of fire to himself, absorbing it and making the slavers effectively blind even as Alek’s lightning strikes the first and second before the humans know what hit them.</p><p>Vines sprout out of the ground, taking hold of the horses leads to keep them from bolting. More vines twist and twirl around the wheels of the wagons. </p><p>The remaining two slavers try to run, not that they get far before they are also hit with lightning. </p><p>How had he forgotten exactly how fast a hunt with his pack can go?</p><p>He doesn’t even have to tell Adolph to check the surroundings to make sure there aren’t any more. While he had only seen the four earlier but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. As soon as the older man is back, he relights the torches surrounding the camp, so they’ll be able to see what they’re doing. </p><p>Shifting back into his human form, he approaches the two wagons, watching the way the children are cowering, huddled close together. Many of them are under-fed and dirty. </p><p>“Hello, little ones,” he greets them, pitching his voice to be soothing. “Do any of you have family left?” </p><p>Almost all shake their heads no, a few don’t answer at all, but the haunted expression says more than enough. Not shocking the slavers took children no one would notice gone: orphans. </p><p>“Okay,” he murmurs, that definitely confirms the plan to send them on to the school and orphanage on the pack territory. At least that way he knows thi sort of thing won’t happen to them again, they’ll be well cared for, and probably most will end up only attending lessons there as children in the pack lands often find families. </p><p>“All the horses are good to go, at least they’ve been well cared for.” Alek announces, stopping beside him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Adolph has loaded the four onto the pack horses, I’ve hooked the rest up to the respective wagons or each other so we can get going.”</p><p>He glances over and smiles, “Thanks. Think you can lead the two wagons back to the camp?” </p><p>Snorting, Alek nods at him, “Oh yeah, no problems there. You two meet us back there?” </p><p>“Yes, after we finish taking care of the mess.” He agrees, eyes drifting back to the kids. “Alek here will take you to safety.”</p><p>All of the little ones look like they don’t believe him, a feeling he can completely understand. It will take them time to heal, and probably a mind healer or two, for those with worse trauma. They’ll have it though, that’s the important part. </p><p>He joins Adolph by the two pack horses, taking hold of the first one’s reins and motioning back towards their camp, and further down, where the downers are. Actually, he’s rather surprised the damned things haven’t tried attacking since they are definitely within hunting range of where they have camp set up. </p><p>It takes longer than he’d appreciate, but he also is careful of the horses, not wanting to have either of them injured. </p><p>Feeding the dead slavers to the drowners is interesting. Adolph watches in fascination as he tosses a fireball at the water to get them moving after tossing the corpses on the side of the river pond.  It doesn’t take long after that for the monsters to swarm. </p><p>“Disgusting,” his packmate mutters. </p><p>“Yes,” he hums in agreement, nose wrinkling as the monsters rip the bodies apart. One thing for sure, no way to prove they didn’t die by drowner now. </p><p>When he’s satisfied that the slavers are shredded, he shifts and attacks, releasing his flames back to his fur. It’s rather fun over all, Geralt would yell at him for his recklessness, he’s sure. It’s not often he gets a chance to simply let loose and burn problems to a complete crisp. </p><p>By the time he is done, the area is a disaster of drowner bits, human pieces, and burned foliage. It’s also well past dawn and he wants to get back to Letho and the others. </p><p>He doesn’t plan on admitting it, but he has serious separation anxiety when he isn’t with his witcher. Considering the fact he now has two witchers, he’s sure it’s going to be so much worse. No matter, maybe this one will let him complete the pack bond so he will be able to at least feel that the Viper is safe and healthy, he’s tried talking Geralt into it, discreetly, but the Wolf just wouldn’t agree. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello all you wonderful peeps, thank you for the lovely comments, they've been brightening my life as I deal with Murphy's law some more. I will be replying sometime in the next day or so to the previous chapter ones, depending on how long errands take.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Children and Cats? What?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Two different sets of wagons show up, Letho doesn't know what to make of the situation he finds himself in.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi all, this last week has sucked, I have appreciated every single comment and kudos, as they have cheered me up and given me something to focus on beside Murphy's Law (seriously, Murphy can go away, cause it's happened way too much the last few years). I hope you enjoy and look forward to any thoughts you'd like to share!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Letho’s POV</p><p>The sound of approaching wagons, two or three, he can’t say for sure, wakes him. </p><p>Since he doesn’t feel the warmth of sunlight against his skin, it’s still night time or early morning before dawn. That is, unless he slept through the entire day, but he doesn’t feel like he’s slept that long. </p><p>He spends a few minutes trying to move and stretch, hissing in pain as he discovers only his ankles seem to have been magically healed. The rest are still healing naturally, at least as much as the damned bands sending minor jolts through his system can. Since he’s a witcher, healing this slow isn’t actually natural, he’s just ignoring that for now. </p><p>“You’re waking, good,” Iwa remarks from beside him. “Julian will return soon enough, but in the meantime I wish to check your throat, as he was concerned and indicated that you were having difficulties.” </p><p>He blinks, clearing his vision and noting how close the woman is from his peripheral vision. </p><p>Dark brown eyes, nearly black, follow his movements as he turns his head to study her. She’s kneeling on one of the furs, slender hands resting against her knees as she watches him. Warm bronze skin practically glows against her supple leather outfit. He’d almost call it armor but it doesn’t seem as if it would be sturdy enough for that. Unless it’s more like a Cat’s leather armor, which considering all the pouches and bags might be. There is a surprising lack of weapons on her though, only one tiny dagger that probably couldn’t do much damage. Of course, most mages don’t need physical weapons to attack. </p><p>He hadn’t noticed how sore his neck was until it wasn’t any more. All of the stiffness and tension is completely gone. </p><p>Her lips quirk upwards into a ghost of a smile as she meets his gaze. For some reason she doesn’t flinch or smell of the fear he’s used to out of humans when they are this close. Even sorcerers and sorceresses tend to smell at least a bit of fear, particularly when near an injured witcher. </p><p>One of her hands lifts off her lap, brushing against the side of his neck in the lightest of touches, sending a shock through his system. </p><p>“Good,” she murmurs, eyes gleaming like polished obsidians. “The healing has taken for your throat and neck. Is there anywhere in particular that is bothering you?” </p><p>Wiggling his toes and fingers, he takes a moment to catalogue each of his pains, trying to determine if any are worse than others. He still can’t push himself upright, that’d require his elbows and shoulders to work. All of the cuts on his torso ache, but it’s the ache of healing, rather than not, so he’s ignoring them. </p><p>“No,” his voice is low and gruff, but not the sort it’s been for a few years, smoother than he can remember it ever being. He’s not going to discuss exactly how much each of his limbs hurts, the aching that he’s used to being so much shorter time than this. </p><p>She nods, a smile playing at the edge of her lips. “Good. I’ll work on your arms tomorrow, see what I can do with them. For now I need to see who Julian has sent our way for assistance. I will be back shortly with fluids for you first.” Rising from her kneeling position, she loops off with the ease of someone used to dealing with multiple tasks at once. </p><p>In less than a minute she returned, helping him sit with practice hands, giving him a view of the entire camp before helping him drink the juice she carried over. </p><p>“Thank you,” he mutters, not liking the taste of those words on his lips, but knowing that endearing himself to the healer might be a wise idea. She’s the only one who has referred to his new <em>owner</em> by name without a title, that speaks of a closer relationship than the others. </p><p>Iwa’s head tips slightly, dark eyes narrowing as she studies him, yet she says nothing. </p><p>Is she a telepath? To his knowledge that skill is confined to sorceress, and she doesn’t come across as one. Not that it means much over all, not all sorceresses are flashy, some hide in plain sight. </p><p>“Iwa, there’s a problem!” the cousin shouts.</p><p>She sighs, shaking her head, “I’ll check back in a bit, if Julian has not returned by then.”</p><p>He nods, it will give him a chance to study the area around here. Now that he’s sitting up and there’s nothing in his way, he can try and get a feel for what is going on around him. His senses have been a muddled mess due to the pain, as it goes down, mostly because of her, it’s becoming easier to focus. </p><p>After doing a sweeping glance over the entire area, taking in the fact there are three other wagons besides this one, along with several riding horses, his gaze focuses on Iwa to start with. She’s the only one he can easily identify and that makes an excellent reason to follow her. </p><p>His senses lock into the healer, noting the way her heart rate is slower than the man she’s speaking with, her scent is barely discernible compared to his full of the bitter tang of anger and fear. Blinking a few times, he studies the pair, as both have referred to each other as cousins. </p><p>They have similar hair, crinkle curls more common to the desert people than any of the northerners, even if his are shorter and fluff around his head a bit more. Similar skin, darker than a lot, but not truly black. Hers is more warm bronze, while his is a shade cooler, quite obvious it’s the sort of brown hue one is born with and not sun kissed. That seems to be where the similarities stop, as he knows her eyes are dark in coloring from when he’s met them, the cousin has light colored eyes, gray or blue, hard to tell in the low light and at this distance. She’s taller than the cousin, her build more solid, healthier even.  </p><p>“Shut up already Stephen!” A taller muscular man, one of the two that carried him out of that place, snaps. “You really are an annoying bugger.”</p><p>“Calm down boys,” Iwa orders the pair, not even sparing a glance as she heads towards the first of the other wagons. </p><p>Those are slave wagons, he realizes, stomach tightening painfully. He’s apparently not the only one. Only something is wrong with the math. There aren't enough people to drive them and handle the extra horses, not when they have been sticking to a rather small group. </p><p>“Stephen, go get water. Now.” </p><p>The cousin snarls towards the woman’s back, but obeys without question. </p><p>“Why’d he pick that fucking idiot again?” the taller man asks as he joins the healer. </p><p>“Because he’s nearly as good with horses as you, Alek, and can actually fight decently in case of situations.” She answers as she glares at the wagon back, pulling something from one of the pouches on her leather belt. “Couldn’t Julian have at least got us some keys before sending the wagons my way?”</p><p>The taller man, Alek, rubs a hand across his neck, “That was my fault. Sorta melted them.” </p><p>Melted them? Is this man a sorcerer or hedge mage then? That doesn’t feel right. Has he been so out of it because of the pain he missed the fact there is magic in the air? His gaze flickers to the viper medallion on his chest, it’s not reactive, and if there is magic nearby it would at least vibrate a bit. </p><p>He’s not even sure how he got his medallion back. Those assholes had taken it from him when he denied the emperor what was asked of him. Unless this was his stuff that <em>Master Julian</em> demanded back. He hasn’t seen his armor, clothing, or weapons. Though he hasn’t seen much of anything but sleep and these people.</p><p>“Lets see if I can remember how to do this,” she mutters as he hears metal against metal. </p><p>Snorting, Alek retorts, “Like you’d forget useful skill.”</p><p>The click of the lock is unnaturally loud in the early morning air as it falls to the ground. </p><p>“I see why they ended up melted.” </p><p>He hears the shuffle of several <em>tiny bodies</em> inside the wagon before the door to it is thrown open enough for him to see the huddle of children, dirty and thin. </p><p>Hissing, his muscles tense as he tries to shove away from the wagon and succeeds at only sliding back into the pile of furs. </p><p>“Alek stop hovering and go get my kit from the wagon, straighten up Letho while you’re at it, as I’m moderately certain he’s not currently comfortable.” Iwa orders, her voice gentle. “Have Stephen start boiling some of the water, it won’t provide proper baths but it’s better than the current situation. Then send him hunting.”</p><p>“Yes ma’am!” </p><p>How did she know that he’s no longer sitting up? Probably glanced over and saw it, though would that be enough for her to realize he’s not comfortable?</p><p>“Hullo, Master Witcher, Iwa directed I’m to make sure you’re comfortable.” Alek greets him as he comes around the end of the wagon. “Not sure if you heard or not, don’t wanna cause any surprises, Master Julian would be annoyed if I was being too much of a bother to you.” </p><p>He blinks at that, not sure how to take it. Not only was he given a polite greeting, but there isn’t a bit of fear in the young man’s scent and he’s implying that his so-called <em>master</em> actually cares about what he thinks and feels. Why would he? That doesn’t make sense. Unless <em>Master</em> is used with Julian the same way that Alek used <em>Master</em> with Witcher? Except that doesn’t make any sense. He must be mistaken. </p><p>“I heard,” he replies, taking a deep breath and stealing a glance at his medallion. It’s still quiet, no sign of magic. At least none that his medallion recognizes as a threat or potential threat. </p><p>Calloused hands are gentle as they straighten his limbs back out so he can stretch out comfortably on the pile of furs. Part of him would have preferred to sit back up, but this is probably best. He can focus on his senses other than sight to figure out what is going on around him. </p><p>Extra furs, the ones that Iwa kneeled on earlier, are taken along with the healer’s kit by the man. A promise to check in when breakfast is done or if he makes any noises. He’s moderately sure that any noises would be impossible, except he remembers how Julian knew almost as soon as he had awoken he was awake. </p><p>Closing his eyes, he uses his hearing to focus first on Iwa before spreading to those around her. There are so many little voices, at least thirty children. Not all of them speak with words, some use only sounds, others quick gestures that are explained by those closest. Why are there so many children? </p><p>The three adults treat the children well. Talking with them gently, providing food for them and allowing them to leave the wagons if they desire. Mostly they stay close together, not wandering near the water nor road, and staying away from the adults for the most part. </p><p>He’s startled when one of the smaller ones with bright gray eyes and a disaster of brown curls, crawls into the wagon with him and falls asleep nestled against his side on the furs. </p><p>When was the last time anyone so willingly curled up with him? Not even his own kind were this comforted with his presence. Vipers aren’t one of the better thought of schools. It’s surprisingly nice, unfamiliar, leaves him aching to be able to touch back without issue. He doesn’t understand why he craves contact, why it hurts as much as it feels good. </p><p>Some of the other children panic when they can’t find the little one, Luka they call him, terrified he fell into the river. Their scent fills the air, making it heavy and leaving a nasty aftertaste on his tongue. </p><p>Before the adults begin searching he makes his choice, to soothe the children. “He’s here,” he calls out, trying not to wake Luka and remembering not to try moving this time. </p><p>Iwa is the one who approaches, checking him and the little one, a soft smile curving her lips. “Do you need me to move him?” Her dark eyes are level with his, waiting for his answer. </p><p>He surprises himself when he shakes his head no. The little one has chosen to sleep near him, considers him safe, when so few do, he will not break that by forcing him to wake elsewhere. He’s certain it won’t last, it rarely does. Why would it? He’s a witcher, a mutated monster and murderer. </p><p>Somehow her smile gets softer, understanding sparkling in her dark eyes. She nods and turns to helping the other little ones, sorting through them and making sure they have what they need. </p><p>Breakfast passes in a flash, he’s not willing to risk waking his companion so he declines to eat for now. He can have something once the little one wakes. </p><p>The sound of approaching horses wakes him, startling him as he didn’t realize he was falling asleep. Instinctively he checks for Luka, pleased to see the little one is still with him, though now sitting up and playing with little blocks of wood carved in rough animal shapes. </p><p>“Good, you’re back. What took so long Julian?” Iwa queries, one hand on hip as she stares towards the approaching horses, the other has two bowls balanced he realizes. </p><p>“I’ll tell you after lunch,” the viscount replies, easily hopping off the horse at the end of the wagon and he just lets the animal wander away. “Here let me take those, if you’d be so kind as to find me a bowl when the little ones are done, I’d appreciate it.” </p><p>She nods, leaving his line of sight once more. </p><p>“Hello Letho,” the viscount greets him with a smile, blue eyes turning towards his small companion, “Hello there little one.” </p><p>Luka pushes closer to his leg, clutching the toys. </p><p>He wants to reach out and reassure the boy, but he still can’t lift his arms. Iwa had apologized when she brought him water earlier, for not being able to work on the damage today. She’s been working on the children. That he understood, agreed with. </p><p>“This is for you,” Julian holds out the smaller bowl, thinks better of it, and sets it down where the child can reach it without touching him. “I’ll need to slip past for a moment, to help our friend here.”</p><p>Luka keeps an eye on the viscount as he grabs the bowl and carefully scrambles over his legs to press into the side of the wagon on the other side of him. </p><p>He’s still amazed that he seems to be the person the little one trusts. It’s not a feeling or situation he finds himself in often. Probably shouldn’t get used to it, the chances of him getting to keep this feeling are moderately slim. </p><p>“I’ll help you sit up, it makes eating easier,” Julian murmurs, setting the second bowl down and carefully touching him to do just that. </p><p>Each touch is gentle as the man helps him eat. He doesn’t speak to the viscount, though he does keep an eye on him, and one on Luka. It’s an odd meal, almost comfortable despite the situation. When they’re done, the human asks if he wants to lay back down, to which he shakes his head. He’d prefer to stay sitting for a bit. </p><p>“Master Julian, the caravan approaches.” Alek announces, glancing at viscount and then him. </p><p>Nodding, the man rises and vaults over the side of the wagon, landing steadily on his feet. Another mystery for him, why a member of nobility is so agile. He’s not seen that behavior often. </p><p>“Can I stay with you?” Luka whispers, gripping his bowl tightly and staring down. </p><p>“Yes,” he answers, hoping that the viscount won’t make a liar of him. </p><p>The bowl is set aside as the small body scrambles up the wagon bed to his side, tucking in close. </p><p>His fingers twitch, itching to brush against those dark curls and reassure the child everything will be alright even when he knows it probably won’t be.</p><p>Scanning the surroundings, he looks for the caravan mentioned but doesn’t spot it. Closing his eyes, he takes a moment to find his focus then expands his senses out, finding the heartbeats of the horses pulling the wagons before catching the sounds of the wheels or the surprisingly slow heartbeats. Humans don’t have that slow of heartbeats, only witchers do, and none of them travel together in caravans except…</p><p>
  <em>Cats. </em>
</p><p>Hissing, his muscles tense, he ignores the pain as he manages to get the arm closer to Luka to move, brushing against the boy to cover his scent further. What in the hell are they doing here? </p><p>“Dandy! It has been a while,” Guxart, the eldest of the Cats calls out. “Wasn’t expecting a summons from you in this area.”</p><p>The viscount knows the Cats? Is that where he got the Kiss from? Why would he carry around a witcher potion he couldn’t use? Or does he know other witchers? Humans rarely get along with his kind, non-humans even less so, since they are often hired to get rid of them. They must be towards the front of this wagon, for him not to see them. </p><p>“Stay close,” he murmurs, hoping the other witchers don’t hear him. He doesn’t trust the Cats as far as he could throw them when he’s in fighting shape, which as much as he hates to admit it, he currently isn’t. </p><p>Luka nods against his side, managing to wiggle closer and tugging one of the furs up over his small body. Good idea. </p><p>As much as he hates it, all he can do is wait and listen. </p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Escort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier speaks with Guxart</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been a long week. Such a long week. Familial problems, my service dog is having health issues (<a href="https://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/post/626203065101451272/winstons-vet-bills-organized-by-jaimi-st">here's a tumblr post on it, please share it</a>), and a few other random things going on. At least some of it was good, though not a lot. Still focusing on that part.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier’s POV</p><p>He’s not surprised by how quick the cats got there. He doesn’t know how far out they were before he called for assistance, but he’s always paid rather good money, and they have responded to that by being quick to show when he has a job. </p><p>“Dandy! It has been a while!” Guxart greets him with a wide smile as soon as the caravan comes into view, slowing to a stop not far from them. “Wasn’t expecting a summons from you in this area.” </p><p>The cat is well aware of both his instinctive distrust and dislike of Nilfgaard, and while they are nearing the border, they are still in this hellhole. Had his group not come across the slavers with children, he never would have contacted the caravan. </p><p>Shrugging, he grins, “Oh, that’s how it goes, come across the most interesting situations at times.” </p><p>“What do you want, Dandy?” Gaeton asks, hopping off the second caravan wagon and sauntering towards him with a smirk. </p><p>Motioning towards the wagons the slave children had been found in, he answers, “They need an escort to the village. Plus there are some drowners bounty you can claim from the local community here.” </p><p>Guxart arches a graying brow at him, nose twitching. </p><p>A small hand grabs Gaetan’s belt, tugging carefully and distracting the Cat from the conversation.</p><p>“I have other business to attend. Who better to keep a group of little ones safe then witchers?” He suggests with an arched brow of his own. Plenty is left unsaid past that, as they have worked together in the past. “The pay’s good, you know that they’ll have no issues with your stocking up, and anyone who needs to see a healer, such as Cather, <em>can</em>.” </p><p>Cather is one of the younger Cats, he made the last group that was escorted rather uncomfortable by watching the children closer than needed and nearly breaking one’s arm. </p><p>A frown pulls at the old witcher’s lips as he nods, “Ah yes. Shall we work out the details then?"</p><p>He grins back, “Certainly, Iwa already has paperwork to give Rama."</p><p>“Excellent! It’s still early enough in the day we can leave. Unless you need us to stick around for some reason?” Brass yellow eyes flicker towards the wagon his group traveled with originally, acknowledging without saying aloud they know there is a witcher with him. </p><p>“Getting on the road early makes sense, we’ll be leaving here soon as well.” He shrugs, lips quirking a bit. </p><p>Guxart studies him, inclining his head slowly. </p><p>“They’ll need more food, but that should be easily attainable along the way.” He rolls his shoulders a bit. “One has elected to stay with us, but the rest will travel with you.”</p><p>Gaetan’s laughter draws them from their conversation.</p><p>The Cat is sitting on the ground with three little ones climbing all over him. The little girl who initially tugged on his belt, no older than four, is sitting on his lap. Her bright brown eyes are staring at him, tiny hands tracing the Cat’s face as she chatters and he nods back seriously when not amused by what she says. His laughter seems to delight her, as she wiggles and chatters faster. </p><p>Then there’s a boy not much older than her who is playing with one of the buckles on the Cat’s shoulder. Unfastening and refastening it, tightening and loosening it. Flapping the leather in the air as if it can talk. He giggles from time to time, glancing at the Cat’s expression as if to make sure he isn’t gonna get in trouble. </p><p>The last kid is a little older and keeps trying to get into the pouches on the Cat’s belt, which Gaetan keeps managing to stop. They never try for the same pouch twice in a row, instead moving around and trying to find one that isn’t protected by the witcher’s hands. It’s not going to work, but since the Cat doesn’t seem bothered by it, no one interferes with them. </p><p>Some of the other Cats have left the caravan, moving closer to watch the way the four are playing. Various shades of golden eyes shine bright with emotion. For some there is longing and amusement, while others have hope and wariness, and some have a little bit of all four  in their eyes.  </p><p>He still remembers the first time he met Gaetan. The Cat looked like shit, having come from a rather nasty fight and barely able to stay on his feet. It had taken longer than he liked to get the injuries cleaned up, mostly because of the distrust going on, and the fact the Cat was so high strung. It didn’t take too long for him to understand why. He’d seen the same with Geralt, touch starved, and it took a long while for his friend to get used to easy touches. </p><p>It might not have been his best idea ever, but he decided to hire the witcher to travel with him home, and sicced Rama on him nearly as soon as they reached the village. It was rather amusing watching the hardened Cat try arguing with the tiny mind healer who refused to back down. By the time Gaetan was ready to leave, there was a huge difference in personality it seemed. </p><p>“If the coin wasn’t needed, I’d waive the fee just for that,” Guxart murmurs, a smile tugging at the old witcher’s lips. </p><p>“I’d still insist on paying,” he replies as he nods. </p><p>So many are afraid of witchers, and the Cats have the worst of the reputations, it’s rare for them to be treated like people. Perhaps that’s why he made it a point to invite the entire caravan to the village for the winter. Let them have a chance to be around those who don’t care about species as long as there’s no harm caused. Rama had enlisted her healer trainees and managed to talk a lot of the Cats into letting them practice their abilities. They’ve been on good terms ever since. </p><p>“There’ll be time enough for that on the road, boy, go round up a few to drive those wagons,” Guxart suggests, waving towards the caravan, still smiling. “Get a few to change out the sides as well, I’m certain you can find the supplies to make those into proper travel wagons instead.” </p><p>Gaetan pouts, looking up from the little one on his lap with impossibly wide eyes. </p><p>“Not working on me, come on now,” the old witcher replies to the expression, unimpressed. </p><p>It’s his turn to chuckle, deciding to take mercy by corralling the little ones. This is one of the reasons he asks the Cat’s caravan for escorts whenever he does a stunt like this. It helps them as much as it helps him. He knows by the time these little ones make it to the village and the waiting arms of the school, they’ll have created friendships with the witchers in the group. Gaetan will be the first to do so, but the others will slowly follow, it happens each time. It’s only the Cats who don’t travel with them as often who aren’t as used to it.</p><p>“Do you want to discuss those in your wagon?” Guxart queries, watching as the Cats get to work stripping the slave wagons down and rebuilding them in quick order. Having spent so many years living in wagons of their own, not always obtained through purchase, has given them a variety of skills in the department. </p><p>“Nope, chalk it up to this dandy having a goal and achieving said goal,” he replies, shaking his head. “You know I’m not big on discussing this sort of thing outside the safety of the pack territory.”</p><p>“True, you can put us to shame with your suspicious nature at times.” There’s definite amusement in the witcher’s tone. </p><p>He simply shrugs. One doesn’t survive being a non-human, pretending to be a traveling human bard, by not being wary. He might be one of the easiest going people at times, when he isn’t feeling the urge to protect his pack anyways, but doesn’t make him as stupid as he pretends to be. Being underestimated is always a better option. </p><p>Soon enough the slave wagons are gone, replaced with taller than average housing wagons that he’d wager use the steel bars to create beds or something for the little ones to sleep on. Most of the furs they brought have been used for Letho to sleep, but those extras they’d kept aside for his packmates will end up going with the children. </p><p>“Will we see you in the village?” Guxart inquires as the children cautiously check out the redone wagons. </p><p>“It depends on how my current trip goes,” he answers with a head tip and grin. “These situations can get explosive at times.” </p><p>Rich laughter fills the air, “That is true! Particularly when you’re involved.” </p><p>He grins at the old witcher. </p><p>A few minutes later farewells have been spoken, Gaetan has given up his normal wagon in the caravan to drive one of the wagons with children in it as the twice as large group leaves. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Al you wonderful commenters are awesome and amazing, I adore you and will be answering the comments I'm behind on when I have the mental energy to do so.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Prejudice and Fear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jaskier has a couple of conversations with packmates.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: been a long few days of the bad variety and I can't get the notes to work, please feed the review or kudos gremlin for cheering reasons<br/>Edit! Ha got it to work after it sent out the email. A'course</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier’s POV</p><p>“Why in the hell did you call those—” he doesn’t let Stephen finish the sentence before he decks his cousin, sending him sprawling into the ground. </p><p>“You really weren’t about to say that in front of me,” he snarls, eyes narrow as he considers a seriously thorough asskicking. </p><p>“That’s a bunch of witcher Cats, and you just let them take all those kids, and they’ll probably end up dead or wor—” this time Stephen cuts himself off, glaring at him from the ground. </p><p>Taking a deep breath, he doesn’t look away from his cousin as he asks, “Iwa, care to enlighten our idiot cousin?”</p><p>He doesn’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes. Thankfully, she still does so, neatly outlining the fact the Cats have stayed in the village on multiple occasions, brought most the children living at the school in from elsewhere, sometimes cause he hired them to do so, sometimes because they did it on their own, and have an open invitation to visit whenever they’d like. </p><p>“I get it, you’re scared, though I don’t get exactly of what. That really doesn’t matter at the end of the day.” He softens his voice, using the tone he mostly uses when talking people into paying Geralt better. “Fear can make you do stupid things. Don’t allow it to become prejudice. Not when you’re well aware of the foolishness tied to being a prejudice ass, or I will have you work in the healers domain until you have dealt with your issues.” </p><p>Pivoting on the balls of his feet, he heads to the river. Perhaps he should have Rama check his cousin anyways, to see where this foolishness is coming from. Normally those from pack territory are not that dumb. Too much time around humans? He doesn’t think that’s the case, but Stephen has been acting more foolish this trip then he has in years since first presenting his element. </p><p>Iwa joins him, staring out at the water. </p><p>He glances over at her, watching as she lifts a hand and twirls her fingers, her lips curving upwards as the water dances for her. </p><p>Dropping her hand, she turns to face him. “Did you know that the bond is lighter than it used to be. Still there, but more of a hum than a vibrant song?”</p><p>“Julia mentioned it,” he answers, gaze flickering between her and the others still near the wagon. “That it’s still there, and she can still feel me, but it’s less than it used to be. Said she can feel three others in it if she follows the link to me.” </p><p>Nodding, Iwa hums, watching him with gleaming dark eyes. “Yes, I can feel them too. I’m a healer though, connections are part of what I track. Stephen though, he doesn’t feel them. All he feels is you are connected weaker to us. Not that there are others that you’re connected to.” </p><p>Fear, that’s what’s causing Stephen to act so foolishly. Their kind are not solitary, those without packs tend to go insane eventually. He spends so much time traveling away from the pack territory, the younger shifter probably thinks he’s completely without support. That doesn’t excuse the piss poor behavior, but it explains it. Of course it means they will need to have a long talk when they get back to the pack territory. </p><p>“What an idiot,” he mutters, shaking his head, returning his focus to the water. </p><p>“That’s not really new,” she replies with a snicker, “he’s always been highly intelligent and completely stupid in equal measures.” </p><p>There’s really no need for him to say anything about that. They both know it’s a fact, has been for years. Honestly, when their cousin volunteered to come with, he accepted the offer thinking it meant that Stephen had outgrown that particular set of traits. Upon reflection, he realizes how silly that was on his part. </p><p>“I get the fear, why the prejudice?” He watches the way fish move beneath the surface of the water. </p><p>Iwa sighs, turning towards their camp. “You travel with a witcher, one known as The Butcher among many, though not as much since you started traveling with him. That particular witcher is known as one of the better ones, despite the title.” </p><p>Groaning, he tips his head back and closes his eyes. “Dammit.”</p><p>She’s not wrong. Each of the schools has their own reputations. The Griffons were the best, the Vipers and Cats tied for the worst, depending on the region. Wolves, Bears, Manticores, and Cranes in the middle, generally considered decent except when one gets a reputation for not being decent. Or as much as any one of them is considered since he is far too aware of some of the slander and bullshit spread about them. </p><p>“Fuck.” He hisses as he opens his eyes back up to glance at her. “Send him over please.”</p><p>She inclines her head, turning on the balls of her feet and silently stalking back to their camp.</p><p>He doesn’t have any ideas how to deal with this. Normally he leaves this in the hands of healers, but his instincts insist he soothe his packmate if possible. There’s only one way to do that. Talk. Something he’s great at normally. Except when it comes to pack matters. Then he becomes a complete fool.</p><p>When Stephen joins him, he’s still trying to figure out what the right words are. How to reassure the shifter that he hasn’t left the pack, that they are still family. The only thing he can think of is the Voice or telepathy. He’s not a fan of either unfortunately. </p><p>“Master Julian,” Stephen greets him stiffly. </p><p>“Cousin Stephen,” he replies, studying the shifter. “<em>Kneel.</em>”</p><p>Eyes widening, his cousins legs fold, head bowing, hands planting themselves palm first on firm legs. </p><p>“Do you understand I’m still pack, even when my link is quiet?” he murmurs, watching and waiting. </p><p>“Yes,” it’s a breathless whisper, the air stilling around them, as if the very wind has been sucked away. </p><p>He offers Stephen a hand up, smiling at the shifter and shrugging at the confusion in dark eyes. “Good. See a mindhealer when we get back. If you haven’t within a week, I’ll find one for you and have Julia order it.” </p><p>They head back to camp together, neither speaking as the pack bond hums between them. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Cuddling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Letho and Luka, cuddling</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Letho’s POV</p><p>He listens as Julian and the Cat speak like old friends, with the Cat using the nickname Dandy instead. Some of the other Cats change the wagon in record time, taking it apart and rebuilding it. They laugh and joke, playing around as they do so. </p><p>That’s not natural, he frowns, glancing down at the furs hiding Luka. Witchers don’t laugh and play like that, definitely not the insane Cats. Sure, Cats have more emotions than any other branch of witchers, but...he shakes his head. That train of thought does him no good. </p><p>His fingers twitch, he wants one of his knives, any knife at this point, as he hears the Cat speaking with Julian reference Luka and him. Only none of the Cats come anywhere near the wagon where he’s trapped and unable to protect his young companion. Instead they leave, taking the other children with them once whatever they’re doing to the wagons is done. </p><p>It feels like hours have passed when it’s really only minutes between when the wagons leave. The cousin makes some stupid ass remark that doesn’t go over well causing Julian stomping off towards the sound of water. </p><p>“Luka?” he murmurs, to see if the little one is awake still or has fallen asleep since curling up. </p><p>The furs move slowly, soft eyes peeking up at him before the rest of the little boy pops out. </p><p>“You don’t trust those other…” the boy’s voice trails off, frowning. “Not quite humans?”</p><p>“Witchers,” he fills in. “No. I don’t trust Cats.”</p><p>Iwa leaves camp, joining Julian at the water’s edge from the sounds of it, leaving them with just the others. He doesn’t like it. While the one seems decent enough, that leaves the cousin and two others he’s heard more than anything else. </p><p>Luka wiggles a bit, scooting up into the crook of his arm, allowing him to rest a palm on the hip.</p><p>“I’m not quite human,” the boy mumbles sleepily, small hands resting against his chest, “still like me?”</p><p>There’s no hesitation as he answers, “Yes.” How to explain the different witcher schools and his feelings? “Different witcher schools have different training methods. It can be a problem.”</p><p>Brow furrowing, Luka frowns, “Why?”</p><p>Vipers and Cats have long had competition for what contracts they’d take, as they were the two schools willing to do more than simply hunt and destroy monsters. He might have declined the contract on the kings, leading to his current situation, but that doesn’t mean other Vipers, or even Cats, won’t take it. “Cats will do things most others won’t do,” he settles on. </p><p>He’s a Viper, one of the last, the others lost to the purges and Path. It was tempting, so tempting, to take that contract as offered to get his home, his school, back. Instinct stopped him, the knowledge that the chances of the contract being fulfilled being slim to practically none. Humans destroyed it, why would they willingly restore it? That’s what stopped him. As much as he craves a place to belong, he refuses to dishonor their memory. </p><p>Their honor might not be what others would  recognize as such, but it is still <em>there.</em> They had a code, perhaps not the same as the other schools, but it was theirs. </p><p>“What’s name?” </p><p>He’d have missed the question if not for his witcher hearing it’s so quietly spoken. As it is, it takes him a moment to understand it, since it’s incomplete and jumbled together. Didn’t he introduce himself to his young companion? Wait, no, no he hadn’t. He’d watched the boy curl up with him, refused to let others bother him, but hadn’t given a name to use. “I’m Letho.”</p><p>“Nap Le’ho.” It’s said with all the seriousness a sleepy child can put into words. “Tired. Feel it.”</p><p>Despite the situation he finds himself in, he smiles. </p><p>For a time he can feel like he belongs. Like he has somewhere he should be. With someone who cares what happens to him for more than his use as a weapon. He didn’t get much at that from Gorthur Gvaed, even if he got it there more than anywhere else from the few other Vipers he is close to. Even then, they don’t have a home. Not any more. Any sense of belonging is nothing but an illusion.</p><p>Closing his eyes, he inhales the scent of his young companion, learning it so he can always find him if need be. He hasn’t forgotten that he was bought as a slave nor how the little one came to be with him, in a wagon full of other slaves. Just because Julian hasn’t tried anything thus far doesn’t mean he won’t. It’s best to be prepared.</p><p>“Safe here,” Luka mumbles, pinching his side. “Rest.”</p><p>Opening his eyes, he muses, how did the little boy know he was considering their safety? “Telepath? Do you hear thoughts?” </p><p>Sitting up, Luka rubs a hand across his face sleepily, peering at him, “No. Feel.”</p><p>An empath then, that’s rather unexpected. “I’ll mute them,” he promises, not wishing to stress his young companion. That’d drive him away even quicker, which he doesn’t want, even if he won’t say so aloud. </p><p>“No. Feel is good, process feel, and sleep.” The words are all jumbled again, the tiredness showing through. </p><p>“Lay back down Luka,” he suggests, wondering what the phrase ‘safe here’ is supposed to mean. </p><p>Hazy gray eyes study him, a small nod and drowsy smile directed at him before his young companion curls back up against his side, head resting on his chest. </p><p>His fingers twitch against the tiny hip his hand is still resting on, surprisingly enough. He’s not sure how it didn’t fall away when Luka sat up. His lips twitch into a smile, appreciating the small contact, it sends electricity through him. That’s not uncommon actually. Pretty much every time he has had contact with another person that’s been non-violent he spent several minutes adjusting to the feelings it invokes. The only touch he’s used to right now is Julian’s, though he’s quickly adjusting to Iwa and Luka.</p><p>Do the others deal with that? Is it something that the mutations were supposed to get rid of but doesn’t? Is it part of why humans touch each other so much? He shakes his head a bit, pushing the thoughts aside, he can consider it after a nap, when they wake for dinner. Even though he hasn’t moved much, he’s exhausted from the spike of adrenaline and not actually using it. </p><p>For now, he closes his eyes, he’s going to enjoy the fact there is someone who willingly curls up with him. Cuddles. That’s not something he has gotten all that often in his life.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. First Meal Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Letho is out of the wagon and eating a meal with everyone.</p>
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</p><p>Letho’s POV</p><p>He wakes to the smell of roasting venison, vegetables, and a gravy sauce. Metal chiming against metal as the sauce is stirred. Soft laughter and talking creates a low hum blend with the sounds of the horses grazing, wind whistling over the flatlands, and the river bubbling. </p><p>The sky above is darkening, the vibrant blues fading into grays, purples, reds, and oranges. Heavy clouds are rolling in, the scent of petrichor fills the air. There are more trees then there was the last time he was awake, so they’ve traveled at least a bit. He’s still not sure exactly where they are however. Moving north, of that he is certain. </p><p>Luka has shifted from being along his side, to practically sprawled across the top of him. How such a small body can take up so much space he’s not sure. He doesn’t mind however, as the little one’s heart is steady and his breathing even little puffs that aren’t quite snores. </p><p>Closing his eyes for the time, he drags in a deep breath as he catalogs his body and what <em>hasn’t</em> healed despite the fact he should be far further along than he currently is. He despises the metal bands keeping him unable to heal properly. </p><p>Spreading his senses out slowly, he focuses on identifying everything within his hearing and scent range, rather than just the small snippets of information he woke up to. He’s not gotten far when Luka yawns, stretching, limbs flailing about a bit as the little one wakes up, and booping him in the nose. </p><p>He’s not sure if the noise he makes is a snort or huff of amusement. </p><p>“I’m sorry!” Luka blinks at him, less than a breath of bitter sleepy fear and confusion quickly replaced by warm happiness and relief. </p><p>“It’s okay,” he murmurs, sorting through the scents and changes. The fear and confusion is what he is used to, it’s rare that he is considered a comfort. He’d even wager that the only reason Luka woke afraid is it’s only his first day not in a slave wagon in who knows how long. </p><p>Although technically he is a slave, and he hasn’t heard anything that confirms that Luka’s been freed from slavery. So perhaps it is too soon to count on the little one’s freedom. He’ll do whatever he must to ensure it along with his own. </p><p>The youngest adult of those he’s traveling with, Alek if he’s not mistaken, appears at the end of the wagon and grins at them. “You’re awake, awesome, dinner is nearly done, Iwa suggests that if you’re willing, you sit outside the wagon for a bit to eat.” </p><p>“Fine,” he agrees with an almost hiss. </p><p>The grin widens before Alek vanishes from sight. </p><p>“You don’t want to,” Luka mutters, brow furrowed in confusion as the little boy sits up and studies him. “Then why?”</p><p>“Know the enemy, even potential ones,” he replies considering trying to shove to a sitting position. He best not, getting out of the wagon will be painful enough. His limbs are not anywhere near healed, only the parts that the healer has worked on thus far. How’s he expected to join them? He refuses to beg for help. </p><p>Apparently he doesn’t need to as Alek and one of the others, not the oldest one nor the annoying one come around the end of the wagon. </p><p>“This is Teo,” Alek introduces, “he’s to help with the moving, that way you don’t put extra strain on your body as it recovers.”</p><p>The second one nods, “Iwa would have our nuts if we allowed her hard work to be undone through stress. That’s before we count Master Julian, he’s protective of those he claims in any form.” </p><p>He hisses low in his throat.</p><p>Luka snuggles a bit closer to him, head pressed just over his slow beating heart. </p><p>“Well?” Teo queries, glancing between him and the other man, attention skipping right past the little boy for the time being. </p><p>He nods, “Fine.” </p><p>“You’ll need to move, little one,” Alek’s voice is gentle, gray green eyes meeting the child’s bright gray eyes.</p><p>Luka yawns, rubbing his eyes and scooting off to sit beside him. </p><p>“Perhaps off the wagon for the moment?” Teo suggests, motioning to the side across from him as if to acknowledge the little one might not wish to be right next to a stranger. </p><p>Gray eyes flick between him and the other two before Luka nods, hand trailing down his arm and leg as the boy hops off. </p><p>His eyes narrow as the pair jump up smoothly, there’s something to their motions that’s smoother than what a human would do. Except maybe a trained acrobatic, but he doesn’t get that impression from either. </p><p>“Direct contact? Or lift with the blanket?” Alek is looking at him, waiting for an answer. </p><p>That’s not what he expected. Why are they asking? Are they planning something? “Blanket,” he answers. </p><p>“Got it,” Alek hums, glances at the bedding, as if trying to determine which is best to grab.</p><p>“The bear fur, you dunce, three layers down,” Teo snorts, rolling his eyes. </p><p>“Bugger yourself,” the younger one mutters as he spots the fur in question. </p><p>He has to use his training to keep his face straight, as they remind him of Auckes and Serrit. His chest tightens at the thought of his brothers, fellow Vipers. Did they end up in the same situation as him? Were they trapped back there, being tortured to be sold off or worse? </p><p>It’s only his training that keeps him stock still as he reigns his anger in. </p><p>Still the pair bickering about where to grab the blanket — when the hell did that happen? — both stop to peer at him with concerned expressions.</p><p>“Get a move on it boys,” Iwa calls over, “before I send Stephen over.”</p><p>“No thanks,” Alek replies, as Teo’s nose wrinkles. </p><p>After that the pair quickly get the bedding shifted a bit, his medallion humming softly against his skin. He doesn’t see any obvious magic, but assumes it must be from Alek, since he remembers the conversation he listened in on. Anyone who can melt metal must be strong in some form of magic. A few minutes past that he’s sitting on a small platform with the healer kneeling beside him. </p><p>“Right, left, or ambidextrous?” she queries, hands resting on her leg. “I would wager you’d rather be able to feed yourself, yes?”</p><p>He doesn’t disagree with her, as he really doesn’t like being completely helpless. However, he’s also aware of exactly everything wrong with his arms. His bones might have been set already and technically mended, but they are still fragile compared to where they should be. That is before considering the muscles and tendons damaged. Or the fact he’s covered in bruises and open sores. </p><p>Luka settles beside him with a bowl, scent warm and tinged with happiness. </p><p>“Left,” he mutters, watching as she nods and carefully lays her hands flat against his shoulder and wrist. Even with the weight he’s lost, her hand doesn’t even come close to going around it. </p><p>Like when she healed his ankles and feet, it starts off mildly warm, heating up as he energy pulses through him. This time, he’s aware of what she is doing, and focuses on the feelings of it. It’s not like any healing he has had in the past. Nor does his medallion react, despite the obvious magic. That’s interesting, is there something different between what she can do and what Alek can do?</p><p>“There,” she sits back, placing her hands on her legs and ordering, “Wiggle your fingers.” </p><p>He does so, quite pleased when it doesn’t feel like someone is taking a knife to his nerves. They are a little stiff but not nearly as bad as they could be. Slowly rotating his wrist, it pops as if releasing pressure. It feels rather odd actually, since it’s been over twenty years since that wrist was last painless. He broke it once and it mishealed, didn’t do much more than cause him pain, so he mostly ignored it. </p><p>“Move the elbow and shoulder as well, I wish to make sure the healing took.” She directs him when he stops to stare at his arm. </p><p>He starts by rotating his hand to face upwards and down, noting the fact the scarring is lessened, and there are no marks from his most recent round of torture. Next he touches his palm to his shoulder, lifting and rotating to see how well it works. There’s no remaining stiffness or pain in it as well. With a smile, he stretches his arm across his chest, to ruffle Luka’s hair. </p><p>“Good,” she declares as the little one giggles. “One of the boys will bring a plate over.” </p><p>“Thanks.” He’s not big on talking to them yet, probably won’t be at all. Not as long as he doesn’t trust them. </p><p>Sure enough, she’s barely moved away when Julian brings two decent sized bowls over, the first handed to him, while the viscount sits down and starts eating out of the second. </p><p>What does the man want? </p><p>He settles the bowl on his lap carefully, making sure it isn’t going to fall and spill. Slowly he uses the spoon to scoop a bite up, it’s still hot, and tastes wonderful. It’s a lot better than a lot better than he gets in most inns or taverns. </p><p>“How are you enjoying the meal, Luka?” Julian queries, leaning forward to glance across his chest.</p><p>It doesn’t make him comfortable at all. His <em>master</em> should not be looking at his little one. If he had the choice, then Luka would not be noticed by the man. His small companion would be safe and <em>free. </em>No threat of being held captive for whatever purposes haven't been spoken yet. </p><p>Gray eyes flicker from the bowl to him to Julian in rapid fire. “It’s good. Better than the grub.” </p><p>Nodding, the viscount scoops a bite to eat, “Grub rarely tastes good. Except when starving, then it’s more a matter of at least it’s something.”</p><p>That’s not actually wrong. When would the man have dealt with starvation? Last checked it was rarely an issue nobles deal with, even if their staff and citizens pay the price. He frowns at his own bowl, puzzling through it as the two talk across him. It’s not until the pair start discussing some of the places Julian’s been that it clicks, the viscount could have felt hunger and been close to starving if something went wrong while traveling. </p><p>“Cousin isn’t what anyone would call the best hunter,” Stephen remarks from the far side of the fire, butting into the conversation. </p><p>“Says the man who broke how many bones his first summer hunting because of lack of attention?” Julian retorts with a brow arching in challenge, the hints of a smirk playing at the edge of his lips, and scent rather warmly playful like fresh peaches. “I might be too impatient, but at least I manage to pay attention to my surroundings.”</p><p>Iwa settles beside Luka and nods, “I got most my bone setting practice on Stephen that year.” </p><p>He ignores the frustrated muttering out of the annoying man.</p><p>Adolph’s deep chuckle ripples through the air, “It’s a family trait, I remember when Zenon was a pup, swear he broke every bone in his body at least once while learning to hunt.” </p><p>He doesn’t understand why they are speaking so freely in front of him. Even if he is bound, he’s a threat. Or will be, anyways, as soon as he is healed enough to fight. His healing might be compromised, that doesn’t mean much as it doesn’t affect his physical abilities. This group of humans is not big enough to cause him a massive threat if he is healed. </p><p>“How are you enjoying the stew, Letho?” Julian’s blue eyes flicker over him, then back to the plate his so-called master is holding. </p><p>For a moment he considers not answering, but decides he wants them to keep them thinking he is giving in to them. That he isn’t a threat. The best way to do that is to play along. It will also give him a chance to continue gathering information. “It’s good,” his voice is rougher than he’s used to, probably from disuse. </p><p>Teo grins at him, head inclining the slightest bit as the scent of warm honey fills the surrounding air. </p><p>“That’s good, there’s plenty to eat,” Julian declares between bites, “it’s good for healing.”</p><p>“Yeah, Iwa made sure that all the spices were ones that would not be overwhelming to the senses and that they were all ones that promote healing,” Alek chimes in with a snicker. </p><p>She rolls her eyes, “It’s not like you heathens would notice the properties behind them.”</p><p>The banter is lighthearted between them. If not for the bands on his limbs, he’d feel as if he is welcome, a  member of this little group. The bands however, keep him from forgetting how far from the truth that really is. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's been a really shitty few days, I keep coming back to these lovely comments, as you all are wonderful. </p><p>The art at the top of the chapter is something I made, please share the <a href="https://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/post/633619388004810752/letho-luka-sleeping-in-the-wagon-the-link-is-to">Tumblr Post about Letho &amp; Luka</a> if you like it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Trace of Fear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's been a few super long weeks, with way too much Murphy going on. </p><p>In better news, I am doing the winter gift exchange for TABLIKM and have been getting words on that, here and there. Trying to get the entire thing done so I can start posting a chapter a day til all posted.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier’s POV</p><p>Years of traveling with Geralt have him waking up not long after sunrise with a groan. He stretches as he gets up, rolling his shoulders to work the kinks sleeping on a bedroll always leaves. </p><p>“Morning,” he mumbles to Alek as he sets to building the fire back up so breakfast can be made. Mostly he wants the coffee he knows will be percolated. </p><p>Chuckling, his packmate replies, “Good mornin’,” before sweeping the area one last time, finishing his the watch as he announces, “calm skies.” </p><p>Considering the amount of sharp senses in their group, they probably didn’t need a night watch. However, none of them were willing to go without one in enemy territory, and his packmates had set it up before he even had a chance to mention it. </p><p>He nods, setting back once the flames are dancing, warming the coals. “Good. We’ll be traveling hard.” </p><p>“Yeah, figured,” the wind wolf hums. “Mind if I hunt?”</p><p>“Go for it,” he answers with a wave towards the fields and river. “Making coffee.”</p><p>Alek nods, looping off without another word. </p><p>He heads over to the wagon, fetching the small crate that the dishes are in, and grabbing the coffee from the crate of the food supply. Whoever makes breakfast, cause it definitely won’t be him, can pick out whatever they want for their meal. </p><p>When he glances at Letho, he sees that the witcher is awake and watching him through partly closed eyes. “Morning,” he murmurs, “be back with coffee,” and heading back to the fire. </p><p>This is one of those rare things he has insisted on no matter who he travels with. While he can go without, it’s really not something he likes to do. No matter the season or weather, hot coffee is the best way to start the morning. It’s rather meditative for him, allowing him to collect his thoughts before the day begins. </p><p>“I’ll handle breakfast,” Stephen announces, brushing their shoulders against each other. It’s the first contact from his packmate since they left the village to begin this trip. </p><p>“Alright,” he agrees with a grin, finishing up the coffee and making two mugs: one for himself, the other for Letho. “Thank you.”</p><p>He turns on the balls of his feet, heading back to the wagon where the witcher and child are curled up together. That’s right, he should have grabbed something for Luka. As he takes a sip of his coffee, his brains kick on or so it feels, the food and drinks, at least the majority of them, are right there with the pair. He didn’t need to grab anything since there is something <em>right there. </em>He’s definitely blaming the pre-coffee, still partly asleep, thought process. </p><p>Last night went better than anticipated. For which he’s relieved since he didn’t know how it would go. Everything that Geralt has said about Vipers has either been downright insulting or backhanded praise designed to show their danger. Hopefully tonight will go much the same. It would be nice if they could develop something akin to friendship between now and when they reach the pack territory where it will be safe to remove the bands and inform Letho exactly who he is. </p><p>When he reaches the wagon, Letho’s yellow eyes watch him warily. </p><p>No. That’s not it. He knows wary and that’s not what he sees right now. What he sees is something far worse, at least to him it is. </p><p>It doesn’t take much to let his senses shift from human to more canine like, sharper. Bitter almonds fill his senses, subtle and barely there, but surprising and sharp simply from their existence. </p><p>Confused, he sets the second coffee down before taking a long drink of his own. </p><p>Letho’s gaze flickers between him and the mug, lips pressed tight together, brow furrowed and drawn close together. </p><p>Oh. </p><p>Well then, it’s not just Geralt who dislikes coffee. </p><p>“Would you like some juice or water?” he queries, deciding he’ll give the coffee to Iwa, she drinks it too. </p><p>Honestly, with the expression and scent, it’s not just a dislike of coffee going on. There’s something else, he’s going to ask if he gets a chance, otherwise he will wait til he is with Geralt again and then ask the White Wolf. </p><p>As the silence burns on, he wonders if Letho’s going to answer, choose what to drink, or if he should pick something and hope it’s the right choice. Now that he knows coffee isn’t, he will make sure not to offer it again. </p><p>“Water,” the witcher answers, good arm secure around the small body curled tight against his side. </p><p>“All right,” he agrees, reaching for one of the many water skins instead. The great thing about the fact they have a water wolf in their pack is the freshness of the water. It never stales and always tastes clean. </p><p>He doesn’t speak as he offers the water, instead he smiles as it is taken grudgingly, the arm holding Luka moving only enough to grab on before returning to the protective position. </p><p>Rather than stay, he grabs the second coffee, heading towards Iwa’s sleeping bag, and sets it down carefully beside her. One quick charm later, and he knows it will still be the right temperature when she awakes, though she’ll need to mix it as she prefers. </p><p>He checks on each of the horses as the rest of their small pack wakes, making sure to give them little treats and praise them for their hard work. It’s something he does whenever he’s stressed, and something the others are well used to. </p><p>Why did Letho smell of <em>fear?</em> Not even when he ‘bought’ the witcher from those jackasses had the Viper come across afraid. It was nothing more than coffee. Hells, he’d said he was grabbing some for them. Is coffee a poison to witchers? Does it make them weak to poison? He knows Vesemir drinks it, and Coën enjoyed it the last time they had breakfast together, so he doesn’t think that’s it. </p><p>Perhaps it is something certain witchers have an issue with? The scent or taste could be too much? That’d make sense since their senses are stronger. If they had strong ones to begin with, enhancing them would definitely cause foods like coffee to be annoying. Of course, that might have nothing to do with it. </p><p>Being annoying doesn’t cause a fear reaction. Even one so muted. </p><p>It’s not like he can simply ask. Well, he could, but he’s certain it wouldn’t go over well. Letho doesn’t know him. That’s before including the fact that the Viper is technically at his mercy. Perhaps once they reach pack territory and he explains everything to the witcher he can ask? Maybe he will have built up enough trust by then it will not cause violence. </p><p>“Julian! Come grab a plate!” Iwa calls over, “Before these pups eat it all.”</p><p>“Hey! We’re same generation as you! Who are you callin’ a pup?” Alek practically yelps around a mouthful of food.</p><p>He chuckles and shakes his head a bit, at least he doesn’t have to worry about any threats here while lost in his own thoughts. Even without using his own senses to track the area, there are five other wolves here, they can track it just as well. Anyone foolish enough to try attacking wouldn’t think to worry about Iwa even though she’s the greatest threat: never piss off a pack healer with a patient or child around.</p><p>“Julian.” </p><p>He knows that tone, it’s her ‘obey me now or your next visit with me is not going smoothly’ tone. He’d best get over there. </p><p>Shaking his head again, ambles towards where the small pack is seated. Letho and Luka are seated between Iwa and Adolph with plates on their laps. The child is pressed close to the witcher’s side, eyes sleepy as he picks at his food. The witcher is eating the same stability he’s seen in plenty of people who are uncomfortable around others. </p><p>It takes him less than a minute to make up a plate before he settles beside Iwa.</p><p>Letho stiffens, bitter almonds drifting in the air. </p><p>He ducks his head, frowning, a sharp elbow slamming into his ribs from his cousin at his side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm on tumblr as JaimiStoryTeller</p>
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